Robinson Crusoe 2244 (2 page)

“Once we start down this road, there will be no turning back.”

“Only a coward would want to.”

Voices erupted in unison, but Robinson recognized none of them. His hands suddenly felt damp. The situation inside grew tenser by the moment. The tenor of anger gave way to mistrust and even fear.

And then all at once, the arguments ceased. A new voice spoke, calm and sure. Robinson recognized it as belonging to the Tier of Transportation, a man who was also his father.

“Sers. We all have much to lose by acting. But failing to act presents an even worse fate. The Campaign moves forward. Each and every one of you must ask yourself, here and now, will I support it or stand against it?”

The room went quiet. Robinson didn’t know what this Campaign was, but even the mere mention of it set his heart thrumming in his chest. He didn’t know why. He wanted so badly to see what was happening on the other side of those doors. Finally, when he couldn’t take it any longer, he bent down to the keyhole for a glimpse inside.

And just as his weight shifted, the floorboard under his feet groaned. It was a subtle sound, but it sent a jolt of terror straight through him. He quickly stood up, about to back away when the doors were thrust open and his father met him eye to eye.

“Father,” he stuttered. “Uh …Vareen asked me to tell you that breakfast is ready.”

Leodore Crusoe was dressed in grey slacks and a grey doublet with a bootlace tie. His black hair was slicked back to tight curls that billowed over his collar. His beard had been trimmed that very morning, but it was his eyes, so thin and foreign, that froze Robinson in his tracks.

Even more disconcerting was the dozen or so guests spread about the room. They were Tiers and not of minor houses or faux titles. These were men of power from all over the Isle—men who rarely gathered together outside the council and never in secret.

What were they doing here?

“Fellow sers,” Leodore finally said, “My eldest, Robinson.”

“Your Tierships,” Robinson said while bowing with an open hand facing them, thumb curved in. It was an old tradition, the One and Four. The open hand symbolized that he held no weapon. The inverted thumb meant he was positioning himself between them and harm, which signaled that he was a friend.

Several returned the gesture, though none bothered to bow. Robinson recognized several of the men. Fonel Keric, Tier of Water Resources. Byron Frostmore, the flamboyant Tier of Horticulture. The elderly Vonus Cork, Tier of Agriculture, scowled from the corner. But it was Roland Fallow, Tier of the Exterior, whose presence surprised Robinson most. It was well known Ser Fallow and his father didn’t get along.

“Perhaps it is time to wrap this up,” he said.

The men muttered quick assents.

Leodore turned back to his son. “See that Tannis and Tallis are dressed and ready for breakfast. I’ll be along shortly.”

Robinson nodded and bid a quick goodbye before leaving the room.

Once in the kitchen, the twins questioned Robinson fervently about what he had seen, but he gave little away other than to say, “Of course they welcomed me. Now that I’m to be an apprentice, they value my opinion about certain things.”

The twins looked at him with awe. But his pleasure quickly ended when the final carriage left the grounds and his father returned and slapped him across the face.

“That is the last time your antics embarrass me.”

Vareen and the twins gasped. Leodore had never struck any of his children before. Tears sprang to Robinson’s eyes.

“Ser,” Vareen pleaded. “It was a harmless prank.”

“Harmless? Scaling the Tower two days before the Day of Naming when every Tier from around the Isle is in New London? Damnit, boy! You couldn’t have picked a worse time if you’d tried! Should that Red Guard report back who was in attendance here, the Iron Fists will be breaking down the door before the staff can hide the silverware!”

“I assure you, Ser,” Vareen said calmly, “that man did not so much as glimpse who or what was inside the parlor. And did he not accept your token?”

“The word is
bribe
,” my father said. “And just because he accepted it doesn’t mean he won’t write a report later.”

Ser Crusoe’s eyes fell back on his son. “When I think of the tutors we wasted on your education. And the dance masters and the elocution lessons, and for what? So my son could be the laughing stock of the entire Isle? Thank the Crown your mother cannot see you now!”

Before he turned and fled, Robinson saw a glint of something lustrous clutched in his father’s hand. It was attached to a long, thin chain. Only later when he calmed down did he realize it was his mother’s locket.

He had not seen it since she had died.

A half turn later, Vareen appeared at the Livery door and saw Robinson sitting at a small desk tinkering with leftover components. She never understood where the desire or imagination to create came from, but it had always been present in the Crusoe line.

“What are you building?” she finally asked.

“It’s a tracking unit. You can carry it aboard a ship or on your person and if you’re ever in trouble, you push this and it will emit a pulse that will help others find you.”

Vareen knew what he was thinking. Had his mother been in possession of this device, she would have still been alive today.

“It’s brilliant, Robinson. Everything you create is. You’re just like her in that—”

His hands stopped churning. “What does it matter? Thanks to the Eighth Law, it will never even see the light of day.”

“The Eight are here to protect us.”

He stifled a laugh before looking up. “Does he hate me, Vareen?”

“No, Child!” she said, stepping close. “Your father loves you very much. He is just … These are difficult times. There is a change in the air, something I have not felt in a very long time. It’s like the coming of a storm. You father feels it too. It’s why he met with the Tiers today. Leodore has always had a deep love for the One People, as did your mother. Both felt it incumbent upon them to preserve what our ancestors built.”

“But we have a good life here. Why would he risk that by consorting with men like Tier Fallow?”

“Because not all views look out from the Shelf. Most have no windows at all. Isn’t that terrible, considering how big the world is?”

Robinson nodded, but he wasn’t sure. New London was the only world he’d ever known.

Vareen lifted his chin. “You’re too young to worry about such things. In two days’ time, I will dress you in your finest and load you into your carriage for the Crown. And there, you will hear your name spoken in front of the entire One People. And I will watch you on the Feed as I did your father, and I will cry because you will no longer be the boy I have held and loved and watched grow. You will be a man—an apprentice to your father. And maybe then we can set about finding you a wife.”

She saw him smile oddly. “Or have you found one already?”

“There is no one,” he said, frustrated by his transparency.

She clucked. “You have always been a terrible liar. At least with me. Now come. We must clean you up. You’re already late for school.”

He looked at the clock on the wall. “I have plenty of time. The carriage trip only takes a quarter turn.”

“Your father took the carriage a while ago. You’ll need to go in on foot.”

Panic immediately swelled in Robinson’s chest. He quickly ran for the door. Vareen yelled at him. He needed a bath, but before she knew it, he was halfway down the road. He’d already enraged one of the two men he feared most in this world.

He was about to face the other.

The Academnia had been one of the first buildings built after the Wall had gone up, so no one could have foreseen the area around it going so quickly to seed. But the irrigation to the communal fields had been improperly engineered and the result was constant flooding to the streets surrounding the school.

Over time, the underclass had built a beehive of stacked domiciles and shanties to live in, but they were often flooded, earning those citizens who lived there the slur, “Muckbacks.” Robinson had never used the word himself. After all, his best friend was one of those citizens, but few children of Tiers gave them the same courtesy, as evidenced by the scrawl over the bathrooms that read, “Nobes only, no Mucks allowed.”

When Robinson arrived at his classroom, he found the door locked. It wasn’t a surprise. Taskmaster Satu was as strict about punctuality as he was about everything else. Through the window, he saw the class rigid and attentive as always. His only relief came when he spotted Slink inside. He had successfully managed to escape the tower, though Robinson was sure he bore some guilt over leaving his friend behind.

Robinson took a deep breath and knocked. The door opened slowly.

Taskmaster Satu wore his usual burgundy robe, fringed with gold leaf brocade around the neck that designated him as Taskmaster Overseer of New London. His hair and beard were both long and grey, but it was his penetrating eyes that had weakened the knees of generations of students and sent many from the rural Regens scrambling back to the safety of their homes.

“Citizen Crusoe,” he enunciated with relish. “You are late. You know the penalty for tardiness in my class. You will return tomorrow with a five-thousand-word essay enumerating the myriad ways in which you have hindered my teachings over the years. This, you shall read for the amusement of your fellow students and myself. Good day.”

He slammed the door in Robinson’s face. He knocked again.

When the door opened this time, Taskmaster Satu’s nostrils were flaring. In his hand was a long, slender riding crop made of yew that extended from a worn handle, down a narrow shaft, to a leather tongue keeper that was cracked with age and overuse. It was an implement Robinson was very familiar with.

“My apologies, Taskmaster, but there is no school tomorrow. Today’s our final day.”

His teacher feigned surprised. “Is it now? How foolish of me to assume that I, your teacher, might have some say in the fulfillment of your academic obligations. By all means, come in! Come in, so you might inform all my charges of their fate as well.”

As he entered, Slink rolled his eyes and most every other student frowned with irritation. Only Jaras Saah, seated in the back, wore a perverse smile.

Robinson was about to head for his seat when the crop barred his path.

“
Before
you take your seat, there is some business we must attend to, yes?”

He knew what was coming. “Yes, Taskmaster.”

“You have willfully interrupted my class. I will have an explanation.”

Robinson knew he’d have no problem fabricating an excuse, but Taskmaster Satu would then have the right to vet that excuse, which, given this was the last day of school and how such an act could further cement his reputation, was not beyond him. If a student was caught in a lie, he could be brought up on charges in front of the Tier of Civil Obedience, which was a grave thing. He could easily tell some smaller lie, something Slink could corroborate, but if the Red Guard did indeed file a report, then Slink too would be disciplined, and his punishment would be far worse. Robinson had only one option.

“I have no excuse, Taskmaster. My tardiness is no one’s fault but my own. I apologize to you, my fellow classmates, and all the citizens of the One People.”

His disappointment was evident. He’d clearly been itching for a confrontation. “Your sentence is two lashes. To be exercised”—he brought the crop down with a snap that made most in the room jump—“immediately.”

Robinson swallowed and began rolling up his sleeves.

“Unless, you think it unnecessary.”

“Taskmaster?”

“As you say, citizen, this is the final day of your education, which would imply there is nothing more I can teach you. If that is indeed the case, then your tardiness is inconsequential. You have learned all that you need to move into the world and rightly take your place as your father’s apprentice. Is that how you see it?”

Robinson knew he was being baited, but he had no intention of giving him what he wanted. “I doubt there will ever be a day that you couldn’t teach me
something
, Taskmaster.”

“Well said. Very
diplomatic
. But I’m not speaking in riddles. There is no subterfuge on my part. You have always been one of my brightest students. Or am I mistaken?”

The students shuffled, eager to see where this was going. Robinson felt a flare of anger. He’d already had a tough morning and didn’t deserve to be singled out like this for being a quarter of a turn late, so he ignored Slink’s subtle shake of his head.

“No,” he said finally, “you’re not.”

“Excellent! So, theoretically, I could pose to you any question and you should be able to answer it.”

“Theoretically. If the question was based on the curriculum taught to us here, under this roof.”

“Or on things I am sure you have knowledge of?” he asked.

“A difficult concept to verify since no one knows my mind but myself.”

“An excellent point! Let’s find out. Shall we say six questions?”